


Better than Crepes

by JoifulDreaming



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dreams, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoifulDreaming/pseuds/JoifulDreaming
Summary: Crowley watches Aziraphale dream.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	Better than Crepes

It isn’t often that Aziraphale actually sleeps. Mostly, he’s content to hold Crowley while he sleeps. Well, until Crowley lets go of him. Crowley would deny it to anyone else, but he’s a clingy sleeper. Sometimes it takes a while for him to roll away or, at the very least, relax his hold. Still, Aziraphale doesn’t usually leave. He keeps a nice stack of books rotated at his bedside to keep him company until his partner wakes. Sometimes he miracle’s up a cup of cocoa.

Sometimes, though, Aziraphale naps. Usually after Crowley’s had a particularly wicked way him. His body sated and loose and sleepy, he slips in to dreams.

So, when Crowley wakes to gentle murmurs he thinks, at first, that Aziraphale is talking to him. Rolling over, his question catches on his tongue. Aziraphale’s eyes are closed, his face mostly slack. But there’s a smile tugging at his lips.

If it’s rare that Aziraphale sleeps, it’s even rarer that Crowley catches him at it. He feels his own weariness drain out of him and, propping his chin on his hand, he watches Aziraphale closely.

A soft moan makes Crowley sit up a bit straighter, smirking. Maybe his partner is dreaming about him. A tiny shifting of his hips- that would’ve been a happy wiggle were he sitting up. A wiggle? He’d take that, too, he supposed.

Aziraphale’s eyes blinked open slowly. He was always a bit disorientated when he woke, never intending to fall asleep in the first place.

“Hmmph.” Crowley could swear he looks disappointed. Was the dream that good? So good reality doesn’t compare? His heart sinks a little.

“Pleasant dreams, Angel?” Crowley did his best to appear relaxed when Aziraphale looked at him, but that moment of disappointment he saw flash over his face was gnawing at his gut.

“Yes, quite, but I do wish I had been allowed to finish.”

“Finish?” Crowley grinned salaciously at him. If that was all the disappointment was about… Well, Crowley had woken up unsatisfied many a morning. “You know, I could…” 

“Oh, could you? But, how do you know…?”

“Heard you talking in your sleep.”

“About crepes?”

“Crepes? What do crepes have to do with this?”

“You were going to get me some!”

“I was…” A lightbulb went off in Crowley’s head, like being doused with water.

“You were dreaming about _crepes_?”

“Well, yes,” Aziraphale fidgeted, “the delectable ones we had after you so dashingly rescued me from the Bastille.” Here he paused for a moment, staring thoughtfully at Crowley’s dumbfounded face. “What did you think I was dreaming about it.”

“Nug, nothing. Crepes, of course. I can get you some.” Crowley motioned to pull up a demonic miracle, but Aziraphale stopped his hand.

“Really, Crowley. You seem disappointed. Don’t distract me from it. Please, don’t hide from me.”

Crowley mumbled a response, not meeting his eyes. Aziraphale got the distinct impression he might have scuffed his foot had he been standing.

“What was that?” Aziraphale tilted Crowley’s chin in his direction. “Come now, it can’t be that shameful!”

“I thought,” Crowley swallowed, eyes darting from Aziraphale’s and away and back, “I thought you were dreaming about me.” He was steadily picking at and doing a good job at looking like he was raptly interested in a stray thread on the bed sheet.

“Of course I was,” Aziraphale looked confused again.

“But… you were dreaming of crepes.” Crowley was searching his face now, looking for the hidden punchline. This morning had already been an emotional rollercoaster of sorts. He was ready to get off the ride.

“Yes, and they were delicious. But, they were the _actual_ crepes from after the Bastille, Crowley. You were there. In that… garish getup.”

“I was there?”

“You were there.” Aziraphale smiled, stroking his cheek gently.

“Not exactly what I was thinking, but I’m glad I was with you.”

“My dear, you’re in all of my dreams.”

“All of them?”

“Since I started sleeping, yes.”

Crowley felt something swelling in his chest and couldn’t stop the smile spreading over his face.

“Yes, that’s more like it.” Aziraphale returned the smile, “I don’t think I could bear it to be away from you, even in my dreams.”

“But you… you looked so disappointed when you woke up. Just… ngk, just over not finishing your crepes?”

“Oh,” a blush crept up Aziraphale’s neck and spread over his face, “no, not exactly.”

“Eh? What exactly then?”

“Well…”

“Well,” Aziraphale shimmed and swallowed, “the crepes aren’t exactly the star of this particular dream…”

“You’ve dreamt about it before?”

“Oh, many times.”

“And what’s the star, then?” Questions, Crowley always had questions.

“You, of course.”

“Me.”

“Oh, for someone’s sake. Crowley, it was about to be a sex dream.”

“Oh.” There was a dumbfounded silence. “About crepes?”

Aziraphale took a deep, steadying breath.

“With you.” 

“Because of the crepes?”

Aziraphale growled softly, pushing Crowley onto his back and pinning him there.

“I never thought I’d say this: forget about the crepes!” Crowley’s eyes were the size of saucers. But, with a satisfied feeling, Aziraphale watched his pupils dilate. “It’s never about the crepes.”

“Never about the crepes,” Crowley was still not comprehending, he could tell. At this point he was utterly distracted.

“It’s about what comes after the crepes.”

“I left.”

“Not in my dream, you didn’t.”

A beat passed with the only sound in the room being Crowley’s quickened breathing. Aziraphale watched the moment when Crowley finally clued in. A flush spread beautifully from his cheeks, down his neck and chest. Aziraphale wanted to follow it with his lips and teeth. He would, in a moment, he decided.

“You’ve dreamt about it before?”

“Many times.”

“That I didn’t leave.”

“Mmhmm,” he had decided that the kisses couldn’t wait, leaving a trail of them along Crowley’s left clavicle. “I didn’t want you to. And, in my dreams, you never do.”

“So it wasn’t about crepes then?”

Aziraphale sighed and bit him sharply.

“Kidding! Kidding, Angel. You know… I only left because I didn’t want to leave?”

“Yes, I understand that.”

“But now I don’t have to.”

Aziraphale looked up from halfway down Crowley’s belly.

“I much prefer it this way.”

“Even without crepes?”

“Even without crepes.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes and carried on his kisses, ever lower.


End file.
